


it's a fire, you started it

by harleyhearts



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bisexual Sam Wilson, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Gay Bucky Barnes, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Nightmares, POV Steve Rogers, PTSD, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve being their couples' therapist basically yep, Swearing, why tf didn't they hire me for tfatws smh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 17:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harleyhearts/pseuds/harleyhearts
Summary: Sam and Bucky still talk to Steve, but with each other, not so much. Maybe they just need a helping hand from an old friend.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Riley/Sam Wilson - past
Comments: 8
Kudos: 70





	it's a fire, you started it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunlitseas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlitseas/gifts).



> HELLOOOO! in case u didn't already know, sambucky are my ride or die. but my number one ride or die is Cat!!! it's ur birthday today and this fic is my gift for u 🥺 i've already said it 3 times but i'll say it AGAIN happy birthday baby boo 💖💖 you are perfect and i really hope u enjoy sambucky being idiots as we all know 💓 also this fic is 100% inspired by us yelling about this headcanon, and somehow that silly idea became a lot more angsty than i anticipated!! before the notes become too long i wanna thank Mari and Em for beta reading for me, literal life saviors ❤️ and ofc the title is a taylor swift lyric. what else did u expect? enjoy !

It’s a strange new chapter of Steve Rogers’ life.

Well, most likely his last. But above all, it’s quiet, and he finds peace in that.

You wouldn’t judge him, given the long (so long, _too_ long) life he’s led. He knows he made the right choice. 

Even though his friends seemed unsure of putting him in a nursing home. But truth be told, he enjoys it. A walk in the garden, fellow inhabitants cursing each other over card games, reruns of Jeopardy on the television.

It’s so… trivial. And that’s refreshing, believe it or not.

Albeit, he hasn’t let go of his whole old life completely. The superhero thing, that’s over and done with, obviously. Steve can safely say that he’s never done as good as Sam does with that Captain America title.

It wasn’t even strange to hand over the shield, no, it was a relief. He didn’t regret the lives he saved, the family he found, but still.

Speaking of that family, that’s the part that’s still leaving some footprints in his conscience. And poking his nerves.

Listen, he loves Sam. He loves Bucky. He loves their interchanging, weekly visits, and the updates on whatever mission they’re on at the moment makes him feel less like an old man.

If only they didn’t depend on him so much when it comes to their relationship.

Relationship, not friendship. Well, in the beginning they hated each other, loudly so, and it hurt his chest a certain way knowing the two most important people in his life wanted to murder one another.

That’s far from the case anymore. Steve isn’t surprised. Nothing surprises him anymore, but also, they make sense.

What’s he getting at with this monologue, exactly? Funny you’d ask.

Steve’s best friends are in love. Annoyingly in love. A bickering, stubborn, pining kind of love. It’s obvious.

Well, to everyone, but themselves.

…

The first clue to what’s going on since Steve left comes one Sunday morning, when Bucky pops his head inside his little bedroom. He knew he’d be dropping by because he still has a phone, he’s not totally lost.

And, you know, they’ve both learned how they work. Sort of. Sam helped a lot. Okay, he helped with everything, but not the point right now.

His friend smiles, hesitantly looking at the surroundings, but he seems to relax once Steve returns the smile and gestures for the recliner chair matching the one he’s situated in himself.

“Hey, old man.”

So, Bucky just said he’d stop by.

The note about a mission update didn’t bother him much, given that’s not anything he’s required to follow up on ever again, but it’s a nice sentiment to be kept in the loop, he supposes.

However, his friend’s acting… strange.

Steve snorts at the remark. “Speak for yourself.”

It’s almost like the old days, _very_ old ones, way back, when they share a laugh, and everything doesn’t seem so out of place and new.

But it is new, and whatever’s going on with Bucky is bothering him. That is, not knowing what’s bothering Bucky. And while Steve inquires about the very thing the text spoke of, he’s mentally prepared to get to the bottom of it.

Truth be told, this mission update isn’t much of an update. 

He and Sam have been keeping relatively under the radar, planning their next move and rented a small line of hotel rooms under fake names. That’s familiar, so maybe aging naturally really does make a difference on his perception of everything.

But it’s a pleasant conversation, and that sweet woman from the kitchen gets them coffee, his friend instinctively shielding his metal arm inside his hoodie.

Speaking of hoodies, that particular one looks new.

Like, manufactured in the current century, new. Steve figures their pre-serum and post, uh, _everything_ , clothes are bound to break down eventually, so he doesn’t ponder on it too much. Besides, Bucky answers his silent question himself, anyway.

“Sam bought a bunch of these,” he suddenly pipes up, looking down at the strings, “Going _incognito_ or whatever, so stupid. Like, what’s wrong with my old clothes?”

Steve feels bad that Bucky’s ranting to him when he actually agrees with his best friend, who his other, present best friend is currently trash talking. This is definitely familiar. And he’s too tired for it, right now.

So he gives the man a stern look. “I don’t see why you’re wearing it if you hate it so much, Buck.”

It’s almost as if Bucky avoids his gaze.

And given the comment he gives about this random painting on the wall, out of place of the conversation entirely, he’d think he’s avoiding his words, too.

See? That’s what’s bothering Steve.

Yet, he can’t quite justify the suspicion that _something_ is going on, since his friend’s taking just about every opportunity to rant about how much he dislikes working with Sam. Something annoying Sam did, Sam disagreed on his idea, Sam has stubbornly decided to dub Bucky _metal man_ , stuff like that.

His absent best friend’s name is mentioned more times than he can count over that one hour.

And Steve’s left wishing they’d get along, like he’d been doing every single day since they met. Good thing that wish changes to something else pretty fast.

…

The thing about Bucky moves to an absent part of his mind for most of the week, because in reality, maybe Steve just worries too much. Or still got some unnecessary stirring for conflict resolution left, that would be a surprise.

But come Sunday morning, Sam pays him a surprise visit.

Which fit perfectly like a puzzle piece, Steve had just started to miss him, and honestly, seeing both his best friends close in time, still, perhaps even regularly (obviously not something promised, but hey, one can dream), it warms his heart embarrassingly much.

Only thing that would make it better would be having both of them with him _at the same time_ , but he’s learned to be realistic in his former line of work.

Car rides was a pain in the ass with those two, but now he sort of misses that. The experience, anyway, his best friends nearly tearing each other’s heads off, not so much.

Regardless, Steve’s seated in the residence’s garden, which he’s been admiring for a while, given how well it’s taken care of. Some of his fellow, eh, non-supersoldier elders even volunteer with some of the gardening, gives them something to pass the time with, he reasons.

They have more varieties of flowers than he can name, but it’s calming, and there’s even a little spring and birds chirping happily. It’s like right out of some suburban commercial.

“Hey there, Cap!” are the words causing him to startle, albeit _no one_ addresses him like that around here, and no one in general should, but Sam’s got an impossibly large grin on his face so Steve can’t bear rolling his eyes.

Instead he returns the nickname, title, or whatever, and his friend watches the general bustling of the outside besides him.

“You do other things than people-watch around here?”

Steve laughs, he’s such an asshole sometimes “Oh, if only you knew the drama.”

They share quite a few snarky remarks, falling into routine so naturally. It’s a nice combination of his two worlds, so to speak.

“Gotta admit, this life suits you, Steve,” Sam tells him, face a lot more serious, sincerity radiating off of him, something his best friend always so easily slid into and back to his shit-eating smirks like it was nothing. Of course, he agrees with that statement.

Eventually, his friend fills him in on the past week, kind of like he read his mind, not unlike Bucky’s announced drop-in last time. Speaking of, it’s only a matter of time before Sam brings their friend and work partner, hilariously enough, up.

“Barnes is a pain in the ass-”

“ _Sam._ ”

He holds up his hands in a half-defense, half-defeat. “Come on, man, how you ever put up with him is beyond me.”

If Steve could look at himself, he’d probably be the picture perfect of annoyance. Well, a tiny, tiny bit of fondness, but mostly it’s just getting old. Maybe he’s gotta learn to sleep more. Or take a nap.

“You two are impossible,” he replies, not even bothering to shake his head anymore, though admittedly, what Sam’s voice tells him next definitely takes him by surprise.“Sharon got us a hotel room, practically a street down from the target.”

Funny enough, it’s the same type of pondering feeling that rises up in his mind as when his other best friend changed conversation topics, and that’s nowhere the same thing.

Steve can’t really explain it to himself, so it’s probably nothing. And yet.

The question of “You share a room?” isn’t exactly something he can stop, it just flies out, and Sam blinks at him for a second as he considers the words.

“Mmhh. She’s not giving us much of a choice, Cap,” his friend answers as he rolls his eyes, dramatically, as expected, about the topic. “Metal man kicks in his sleep.”

His best friend goes on about the incredulousness, the way he himself can’t quite believe he hasn’t killed the absent man yet, leaving Steve himself in pretty much a state of confusion about the best people he knows, self-proclaimed enemies, seemingly sleeping in the same bed.

Surely that can’t be Sharon’s doing. What would that even contribute to besides making the hot-heated idiots hate each other more?

Sam keeps talking, but Steve’s stuck in his own head. Strange.

…

It’s the Sunday at the end of that month that gives Steve the answer he needs. The question being, why Bucky and Sam are acting in the way they are.

Do they still talk shit about each other? Oh, absolutely.

But their last two visits made him think something’s… not _wrong_ , per say, but evidently things aren’t the same.

Not that he expects nothing to change, obviously.

Rather, it’s the change that leaves an odd imprint on him. Sam would probably go to the end of the world claiming he hates their friend, but funny enough, he revealed this strange obsession with Bucky’s hair the other day.

He’s pretty sure his friend won’t admit that, but then, why did he sound almost personally offended that Bucky cut it?

Not to mention his other best friend ranting about Sam not sleeping. That’s weird, well, weird in the way that his friend seemed to hyperfixate on it, that the other man gets cranky when he doesn’t, and the nightmares.

That touched Steve, because Bucky, once again, strange, also seemed to worry more about their friend’s nightmares than his own.

They’ve become, like, amicable enemies. Is that even a thing? Ugh, he doesn’t know all those modern terms, despite practically all of the avengers attempting to update him on virtually everything.

Today, it just clicks.

Not because either of his friends show up in the middle of his quiet existence, no, Steve doesn’t get any visits.

It’s actually at four in the morning, when one of the staff wakes him up. It takes him longer to adjust his eyes now, but the lady from the reception tells him of an “urgent call”, and whoever was on the line told her it simply could not wait, so is he to refuse?

In fact, Steve doesn’t even get a greeting over his lips before the voice in the speaker rapidly tells him, _“He’s alive.”_

It’s Sam, and he’s clearly out of breath.

Naturally, because he’s not supposed to be awake right now, his old self is rather confused at the statement, and so when he asks for a clarification, a beat passes before his friend lets him know that, _“Barnes pushed me out of the way.”_

Alright. That’s certainly elaborated, but Steve’s still not quite sure what the emergency is. He’s happy that Bucky’s alive, that’s obvious, but since he’s told that fact, that must mean the possibility of him _dying_ had passed his friend’s mind.

“Sam, breathe,” he says, because it rather sounds like Sam’s struggling to breathe than anything else, and his best friend obliges, until the line’s almost dead silent, and he continues with, “Is Bucky okay? I- what’s happening?”

The other man makes a sound almost like a laugh, but it’s strained, the same way his voice would most likely strain if he were attempting to pull an airplane, or an helicopter, or whatever, in motion with muscle alone.

Sam’s pauses are getting longer, to the point where Steve’s fear for his friend kicks in, only barely saving him from panic. _“Nearly lost the asshole. He’s fixed up, just thought you’d wanna know.”_

His own frown feels inevitable. “Lost?”

In reality, he probably shouldn’t be _that_ shocked, but that job gets the best of him no matter how long since he got used to it, no matter how long time will pass, and maybe, the distant memory will still give him a cold sweat over news like that.

And he’d lost Bucky before, or nearly lost him, anyway.

Losing Peggy, that… it’s a terrifying thing. It didn’t get better, didn’t heal completely, didn’t feel any different with Tony, and if he had enough sleep he’d feel hilariously stupid for expecting that.

Hoping more so, but it’s not like it makes much of a difference.

His friend mutters something unintelligible over the line, which doesn’t exactly help Steve’s nerves, but Sam seems to collect himself, slowly but surely.

 _“Self-sacrificing asshole,”_ he huffs, perhaps more to the void of silence than Steve himself.

“Sam?”

 _“Yeah, yeah?_ ”

He hesitates for a millisecond, but he can’t let it go. The worry is nagging in the back of his mind, so might as well voice it, even if his best friend will cover up what’s really on his mind with denial or a sarcastic, ill-fitting quip. “You okay?”

Sam still struggles when the emotions get particularly raw.

And while Steve’s still too worked up about that Bucky situation to go back to sleep, the worry that his friend is on the edge of a breakdown over the phone takes the front stage. He’d rather help anyone else than himself, and that’s scarily accurate in this instance.

To say the least, his brain’s working overtime when the other man finally gives him a reply. _“It’s fine.”_

Doesn’t answer his question, he’s about to complain, but Sam goes on, an aura of distraction moving over his voice, and the sound of him shifting the phone from one ear to another puts Steve on hold.

 _“If I hadn’t grabbed him in time-”_ he says, like a flash of lightning, his best friend interrupts himself three times over before settling on, _“don’t worry about us, uh, that. I’ll keep you posted on him, Cap.”_

And fitting pretty much the whole distressed ordeal, Sam hangs up faster than the speed of sound, leaving Steve alone to his bewilderment and dark bedroom.

That was… something.

He finds himself picking at his fingernail when he puts down the receiver, and thankfully the receptionist takes the phone back, no questions asked.

Truth be told, he barely registers her presence before she’s gone once more.

It clicks, not then, but about a solid few hours post-stressed phone call, Steve staring at the ceiling, sleep no longer an option.

Sam and Bucky hate each other.

But not in the same way as they first met anymore, considering the words of his friend that repeats themself over and over in the quiet of the night.

In a way that makes Bucky go in harm’s way for Sam, and in a way that makes Sam hold his breath, like Bucky was gone already.

Huh. His best friend didn’t call for his peace of mind. Not purely, anyway.

In fact, by the morning, Steve’s not sure Sam and Bucky hate each other at all.

…

By the by, a few weeks pass by without Steve seeing his best friends in person.

It’s not like he’s lonely or anything, everyone here is perfectly kind and the staff makes sure there’s always some event or get-together going on, to fight exactly that loneliness that might easily show itself in this kind of place.

His next-door neighbor tells him of his wife, his grandchildren, his time in the army, and honestly, hearing stories from the others keeps him… feeling human, somehow.

Steve tells them of his own life, too, with some minor adjustments, of course.

He’s pretty sure his trusty breakfast pal knows who he is, with the way she eyes him from time to time, locked away in her own world, but he doesn’t mind too much.

Regardless, he’d still wish to be in touch with familiar faces.

True to his word, Sam keeps him updated, by text, usually short and fleeting, which he appreciates, but it’s hard to concentrate on it when that phone call has made a living in the back of his mind.

It’s really not the extent of the injury Bucky suffered that has him thinking all day, he trusts when his best friend tells him he’s okay.

He supposes it’s what Sam told him. Or what he didn’t tell him.

It doesn’t surprise him that his friend was distressed, due to death, blood, horror, he knows that all too well, but with their mutual friend being who he is, he seemed more worried than Steve would expect.

Does that make sense?

Actually, when he really thinks back on that night, his voice sounded scarily similar to someone who’s been crying.

And Bucky- well, him doing some grand gesture in the heat of the moment is in no way shocking either, but again, they talk to Steve like they’d happily get rid of each other if they could.

They have those personal missions of theirs to point out every single flaw in each other. So why does he feel like they’re not telling him everything?

Funny enough, it’s when he’s just that deep in thought, the weekly collective movie screening not grabbing his attention in any way, that a confirmation of his hunch comes. Well, it gives him the solution, like a math problem, sort of.

Bucky texts him this time.

_Hey Stevie, I’m okay._

He doesn’t have much time to think of a reply in any way shape or form, because another message reaches him seconds later.

 _Birdman worries too fucking much._ Another one. _He got nurse training or something?_ And another one. _Got the fucker to sleep finally. You know how he likes his coffee?_

Steve can’t type an answer. Physically, yes, knowledge of coffee, yes, but the movie’s ending, and he’s too busy with how much this just makes sense to him.

Months ago, this might’ve been the greatest shock of his life.

But now, he’s sure he’s got a stupid smile on his face. Only question is, do either of them know they definitely, really, very much don’t hate each other?

Quite the opposite, actually.

They care, Steve knows. It’s clear as day. They care so much, it fucking hurts.

…

Despite his recent moment of realization, Steve wouldn't exactly claim to be an expert on love. Bucky probably would back in the day, because he’s an idiot, and a liar.

But there’s no doubt in his mind about his friends.

He questions whether this is a recent thing, or whether it’s something that’s been there from the start, overshadowed by pretty much every other aspect of their lives, but it’s definitely a fact.

Surely they couldn’t have faked hating each other _that_ much. And why would they fake it, anyway?

It probably developed over time, he reasons. He knows Bucky made those jabs at Sam, claiming the title of “his best friend first”, and whatever, so maybe their initial dispute sprung out of jealousy.

He feels like investigating, and Bucky visiting on a seemingly random Tuesday presents itself as the perfect opportunity.

Now, is it wise to simply ask his best friend if he has feelings for his other best friend? Or should he assume they’re already together, but haven’t told him, for whatever reason?

It’s a bit of a tougher problem to crack.

That is, until his friend arrives and joins him for the home’s weekly game of bingo, short of a greeting and instead heading straight for a rant as soon as he sits down.

He’s dishing out something about Sam’s morning runs while getting handed a bingo card, which, why he finds this annoying, Steve doesn’t really understand. A suspicion rises in him that those two might just be irrationally making up things to annoy each other with.

The other man looks mildly offended when he snorts at him, “Stevie, does he ever sleep? I’m genuinely curious.”

Okay, Bucky’s fixation on the sleep problem is getting out of hand. Sam does have a problem with that, or rather lack thereof, but if he hates their friend as much as he claims, it would be strange to argue about something like that… right?

Further proof to Steve’s theory, but he keeps quiet. “Nightmares get the best of everyone,” he replies instead.

A number on his card gets called and he stamps it over while his friend looks at him, tight-lipped, clenching his jaw a little too much for an everyday situation.

The expression reminds him of when Bucky came out to him.

A fleeting moment, and it ended too quickly, because given the time they were born, given what sort of shit the world was already coming down to, he figured his best friend just wanted to get it over with. He wished they talked about it more, that Bucky would know that Steve would always listen, _always_ be there, especially since his friend had started the moment with _“You probably don’t care, Stevie. Argh, uh, sorry. I’m gay. Is that okay?”_

He had nodded, _of course_ , _obviously_ , _til the end of the line Buck_ , but the other man left before he got to say any of the things on his mind out loud.

Another reason why finding his best friend again meant more than you can imagine, most likely. They got to talk again, catch up on unfinished business. Also, reassuring to not be the only old man stuck in time, but that’s less important.

Anyway, Steve likes the thought of Bucky having someone. His person, you know? He can’t say he expected it to be Sam, not at first, but now it’s the only thing that feels right to him.

Buck stamps over the next number on his card, and shakes his head, at himself or at Steve, who knows. “Do they ever stop?”

Steve frowns, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

“The nightmares.” Bucky shrugs following his question, and they share a look while he himself doesn’t really know what to say. He can only speak from experience, anyway.

“I wouldn’t know,” he confesses, because what would even be the point of lying to his oldest friend? “Have you tried to talk to Sam about it?”

It’s the other man’s turn to frown, and Steve almost wants to laugh again. From that alone, he can derive that they’ve definitely not talked about feelings. For each other, or feelings in general, even, perhaps.

One hell of a stubborn elephant in the room.

“What’s there to talk about?” Buck huffs, stamping another number. “He just shouldn’t worry about me all the time.”

“Do you worry about him?”

“What?”

Steve puts the stamper down. If he weren’t currently residing in a retirement home, and if he wore the suit, maybe, he’d call him out on his bullshit. At least a different approach than this one, where he sighs.

“Don’t dodge my question, Buck,” he tells him, and the way the asshole looks at him lets him know he understands exactly what he’s talking about. The man mutters a bit, missing a number on his card being called out, but Steve doesn’t have to say right now.

“I mean,” he begins, staring off into space for a while. Now he wishes he could see what’s going on in his friend’s head.

It seems like Sam and Bucky are playing a game, of sorts. Avoiding his questions. Avoiding each other. Whether that’s a conscious choice or not, still up for debate. However, his best friend’s phone pings, one of the residents at the next table over shushes, and he dips his head in apology.

Steve’s still waiting for the answer while the other man reads a text, and for only the second time today, he looks him in the eyes while turning off the screen. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Now, he doesn’t need much time to figure that one out. So he nods.

That’s the revelation for today, he supposes. They catch up on the cards in a warm and thoughtful kind of silence, and the winner’s found without too much debacle, that sweet retired actress who invited her daughter for the game.

It’s not like he or Bucky were too invested in what was happening, regardless.

Besides, Steve’s not really sure his friend’s gonna stick around much longer, they got shit to do, but before Buck leaves, the hunch on who texted him during the game is also confirmed when he stands around at the entrance, pulling up the phone and stuffing it in his pocket again, like a housepet stuck inside and peeking out the window to the great big world.

“He won’t let me in,” he tells him, no explanation needed.

Steve pats his back, no need of explanation, either.

…

Another thing Steve wouldn’t claim to be is a good communicator. Well, he’s alright, but not someone you would pick first to go to with a problem, at least that’s how he feels.

Similar to Bucky and Sam, he’s got this thing with bottling up stuff.

Perhaps on a larger scale than those two, but it isn’t even about him, right now, he’s waiting for his best friend to arrive for coffee and those cakes the kitchen got as another special kind of event on Fridays.

It fits perfectly since Sam wants to give him an update after they relocated for a while, officially a month after his last, well, rather enlightening conversation with Bucky.

Does Steve know what to do with the information that continues to be revealed to him? Not really.

In any case, he knows how his former mentioned friend feels. And he’s pretty sure Sam feels that way, too, but a confirmation might be in order. Or at least just get the two idiots to _talk_ to each other, not scream.

They joke around, like they always do, because it’s a soft sort of opening to be more vulnerable. Sometimes he thinks he knows Sam and Bucky better than they know themselves.

His friend gives the staff and entire room a smile like he’s made out of sunshine and it isn’t raining vigorously outside, and he’s quick to grab the cup of coffee Steve already got for him.

“Fucking cold today,” he remarks, sips the coffee like it’s a gift from the gods and in a matter of seconds he’s scrutinizing him with a raised brow. “What’s the matter with you, Cap?”

Now that is annoying, Steve will admit, he’s got a knack for reading people so easily, too easy. He gives the man a smile, pondering on his approach to the topic on his mind. “Just thinking ‘bout you and Buck.”

Sam stares at him like he insulted his mother, so he figures elaboration is needed.

“I think he’s worried about you.”

“ _Worried?_ ”

His best friend becomes silent, most likely weighing each word over in his brain, and by the looks of it, something’s about to click for him.

He thinks so. Maybe. Counting on it.

“You’re always fighting, Sam,” Steve sighs eventually, taking a bite of the strawberry cheesecake, which is sickeningly sweet, but carries on. “Do you think it’s necessary?”

Finally, Sam tunes into the conversation again, seeming like he’s got the serious tone of the whole thing. “We’ve done this for years, you know that right?”

God, these guys are stubborn as hell.

Maybe he’s feigning ignorance, or maybe Steve just isn’t being clear enough. He never claimed to be a gifted motivational speaker either.

“I’ve noticed,” he answers with a chuckle. “Just saying, feelings are…”

He’s kinda losing where he’s going with this, mostly because the common room’s television volume is a bit too loud for his liking, a resident in the far end corner grumpily tells them to turn down the rubbish, and the receptionists are gossiping about a friend of a friend.

Also, Sam snorts at what he receives on his phone, the only options of the sender being Bucky or Sharon, and Steve grasps at the words desperately.

“They’re just hard.”

His best friend simply takes another sip of coffee, expecting more to come. And, in the end, he figures a more straightforward question might be best. It’s worth a try, anyway, because both of his friends’ walls are tall and like concrete to get through, and that’s saying something for how long he’s known them.

Like, he doesn’t think they’re hiding this thing from him. He doesn’t think they’re embarrassed of being in love, at least he doesn’t hope so, and hell, when did love become such a big word?

Steve always thought love would be easy and make sense as soon as you met it. But apparently, it can hit you over the head and still leave you clueless.

He’s known it’s difficult for a while now, known there’s a lot of ways to love someone and it’s more often than not complicated as fuck. Maybe Sam and Bucky are just that, complicated. Maybe they just need a helping hand.

“Do you hate Bucky?” he finally asks, and if Sam spilling on the tablecloth is any indication, the question isn’t exactly expected. “I mean, if you’re being honest?”

His friend apologizes to the caretaker and lets him clean up.

Now, that’s where it clicks. He’s pinpointing it like he did last time, when Sam avoids his gaze at first, then meets his eyes with a new sort of determination, biting his cheek like he’s afraid to slip up if he opens his mouth.

It’s endearing, there’s not really any other way to describe it.

Steve’s patient until his best friend replies, of course. It’s not like he’s in a hurry or anything.

“I used to, but, uh,” Sam sighs, closes his eyes for barely a second, “Well, not anymore. Haven’t for a long time.”

He nods.

“I can’t, Steve.” he continues, and it takes Steve by surprise. His voice doesn’t crack, but it’s quieter, yet heavy, like it’s carrying the weight of the entire world.

“You can’t hate him?”

“No, man. Well that, but also-”

He looks around the room, like he feared a spy hitting them any minute now, and come to think of it, probably not ideal of him to stage this talk out here. Too late.

Sam shrugs, “I worry too much,” which is said like a fact, and it still surprises him a tiny bit when his friends agree on anything at all, “I can’t lose anyone else.”

And that, right there, squeezes on his heart in a particularly unpleasant way. He wonders if his friend looked the same when he called him that night about their mutual friend, although that sounded a lot more desperate.

At this moment, Sam just looks hopeless.

Steve doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about, obviously. He knows Riley only through what his best friend told him, but it’s enough to understand the pain behind the statement.

And trust him when he says he gets what he’s trying to convey. The fear that comes with living like they do. The fear he’s harboured since before he met either of them, or any of the avengers, for that matter.

If he thinks over it more, Sam might’ve been through endlessly much more shit than what he’s told him. He doesn’t blame him, and he doesn’t owe him anything.

He doesn’t want to get attached and get hurt.

But what’s the point, then? That is, not… trying, when he’s found something _good_ , something more real than anything Steve’s experienced since he lost Peggy, to hold on to it?

Of course, it’s easier said than done.

Maybe Sam and Bucky need more than to communicate. Maybe they just need some sign from the universe that it’s okay to care. To want to be taken care of.

Well, Steve can’t speak for the universe, but as their friend, he’ll give it a try.

“Sam,” is what he breaks the too-long silence with, cake finished and coffee down to its last drops, “I know. But… I really think you should tell him that.”

They share a more prolonged eye contact, and his best friend finishes the coffee off and leans back. Steve doesn’t quite know what happens to the moment, because it doesn’t disappear, but Sam smiles again, a hesitant attempt, widening to be more radiant and looking comfortably light in his being. Resolved.

“Since when did you become so wise, old man?”

…

Where does these past few months leave Steve Rogers?

Becoming a sort of middle man for his pining friends wasn’t exactly planned, but in hindsight, it fit their dynamic perfectly.

But really, when Sam left a month ago, he felt everything he said had resonated, but being cut off to a certain point like him, he had no idea of how the outcome would evolve.

The idiots still texted him, of course they did, but given past experience, they don’t always tell him everything going on. With work, yes, with other aspects of life, not so much. He just hopes they realise they shouldn’t be afraid of what they’re feeling.

What’s changing, what’s not.

He really, really hopes they can talk without ripping each other’s heads off. That still nags at him, old habit.

And between mission updates, updates on Sam actually sleeping, updates on Bucky being less cold at night (which Steve didn’t even know about in the first place) and him finally growing out his hair again, he’s got another hunch that what was going on is working out.

If he helped out on that stubbornness, he can’t be anything else than thrilled, to be honest. He’d wanted his best friend to stop fighting for ages, so this is better than what he could have imagined.

He knows they’re not alone. More than that, he knows they don’t _feel_ alone anymore.

Still, when Steve gets a surprise visit on the first Sunday of the month, it does render him a bit speechless to have them both in front of him, in the same room, at the same time.

And Bucky remembers how Sam takes his coffee. Of course he fucking does.

**Author's Note:**

> if you've come this far and enjoy my work, come and say hi on my [tumblr](https://missorgana.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/empstrikesback) !!


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